Nightlife
by Asael
Summary: Neither Hibari or Mukuro is human, but that doesn't mean they trust each other. Perhaps they can find an equilibrium of their own. Vampire AU. 1869.


**Nightlife**

by Asael**  
**

The whole thing started because of foolish mistakes on both their parts. Later Mukuro would think that he should have realized something was off about the man he had met in the lobby outside the party - but in his defense, he was rather drunk. And Hibari would think that it should have been obvious that Mukuro wasn't everything he seemed - but something made him act oddly that night, made it easy for him to ignore the mismatched eyes and sly smile.

It was only when they were out on the balcony, Hibari's hand down Mukuro's expensive pants, that either of them noticed the danger signs. Mukuro was gasping, one hand resting on Hibari's shoulder as he pressed his thigh against Hibari's erection, and Hibari couldn't take it anymore. Mukuro's breath was loud in his ear as he kissed slowly down the man's neck, licking at the spot where pale neck met shoulder.

He tried to resist the impulse, knowing it would end the game too soon - but why did he even care? Unlike some of his kind, Hibari rarely mixed sex and hunger, due to his disdain for most of the human (and nonhuman) race. Tonight was an anomaly, and for some reason this time - this time he wanted to enjoy his victim. But Mukuro's scent was too much. He couldn't hold back.

When Mukuro felt the fangs sink into his neck, everything became clear. The sharp pain broke through the fuzz of alcohol and his hand tightened on Hibari's shoulder, ready to push him away. But he reconsidered and let his hand fall, laughing lightly. The pain felt good, pure, and when Hibari's hand started moving again, Mukuro let himself enjoy it, moving against Hibari.

The first taste of Mukuro's blood was Hibari's clue. He couldn't count how many humans he'd killed, and he'd never bothered to keep track either - why remember every meal? Sometimes there would be something different about their blood, sickness or drugs or something else.

Mukuro's blood was nothing like that. It was richer, stronger, deeper somehow. It was as if so far Hibari had never had anything but grape juice, and all of a sudden someone had handed him a glass of expensive red wine.

And for the first time, Hibari was unable to drain his victim dry.

Never merciful, he hadn't yet ever left a meal alive. It was a loose end that Hibari would rather not have, and disposing of humans came easily. He wasn't like some, who cultivated little coteries and returned to them - he was a killer, through and through.

True, he had fed recently, and wasn't starving - still, that shouldn't have made much of a difference. But Mukuro's was blood was too rich, too strange, and Hibari was startled. He let the man go, the taste of that blood still on his lips. He hadn't even taken enough blood to make Mukuro more than dizzy - he watched Mukuro sway once and support himself on the railing behind him.

Mukuro smiled at the vampire, reaching up to brush his fingertips against the wound on his neck. "Did you like it?" he asked, looking at Hibari, taking note of the look on his face, blood on his lips, the evidence of his desire. Mukuro himself was still breathing hard, and if anything regretted that Hibari had pulled away before he was finished. Mukuro hadn't met a vampire before, but apparently one legend was true - dead or not, they could be sexual creatures.

"What are you?" Hibari asked.

Mukuro buttoned his pants, which didn't really make him any more presentable. Still, it was chilly that evening. "Something not dreamt of in your philosophy?" he said, and laughed. It had been stupid to let something like this so close, but he had enjoyed it, and he felt lightheaded with desire - and lack of blood. "Vampires don't know everything."

Hibari growled, anger rising within him. Things had gone completely against his plans, and now he was known. Even if he couldn't drain Mukuro dry, he should have snapped the man's neck. "That's a dangerous thing to say."

"What will you do? Can you kill me? You don't even know what I am," Mukuro said with a smile, though he was no more sure that he would win in a fight than Hibari was. "How about an agreement instead? I won't tell if you won't. I imagine we won't see each other again, so why should it matter?"

Looking Mukuro over, Hibari didn't think he seemed particularly strong. He was tall but slim, and with those clothes and that hair, he looked more like a rather debauched model than anything dangerous. But that meant nothing - Hibari himself wasn't always intimidating on first glance, either. And that blood... somewhere in the back of his mind, the taste still lingering in his mouth made the decision for him. He nodded curtly. "Agreed." He waited for Mukuro's nod in return, and then he was over the balcony and away through the garden of the hotel - fleeing the scene until he could get his bearings.

Mukuro watched the shadowy figure disappear, fingertips gently touching the mark left on his neck.

***

The next time they met wasn't entirely chance.

Hibari couldn't forget that night, or the taste of Mukuro's blood. It was two months after their first meeting, so of course he had fed since then - though the small amount of Mukuro's blood Hibari had drunk had sustained him longer than he'd expected. And the blood he'd had since then had tasted lifeless, enough to sate his hunger but nothing more.

So despite Hibari's better judgment, he'd started to research Rokudo Mukuro. The best way to get the man out of his system would be to find him, fuck him, and drain him dry. But it wasn't safe. For all Hibari knew, Mukuro was strong enough to win if it came to a fight, and so Hibari found out everything he could about him.

The evening they met for the second time, Hibari had gone to a bar Mukuro frequented. It was a small place, and fairly calm that evening. Hibari knew Mukuro wouldn't be there (he never went out on Wednesday nights) so Hibari was checking it out, learning what he could. He sat at a booth in a corner, Bloody Mary in front of him (his sense of humor had died with him) and let his mind wander.

Which is why he was surprised when Mukuro slid into the booth across from him.

"Hello," Mukuro said, practically fluttering his eyelashes. "What an incredible coincidence, meeting you here."

Hibari's eyes went instantly to his neck. The wound he'd made there had healed, with only the smallest scar as evidence it had ever been there. "You knew I'd come here," he said, not in any mood to play around.

"I wasn't sure," Mukuro said. He set down his drink, some kind of fruity concoction complete with umbrella, and quirked his lips when he saw Hibari's drink. "But I thought you might. You've been following me."

"Yes," Hibari said, seeing no reason to lie.

"Have you been enjoying yourself? Has it been educational?" Mukuro smiled.

Hibari considered his options, then discarded any attempt at subterfuge. It wasn't his style. "Rokudo Mukuro. You own an upscale art gallery, and you have a condo on the east side. You're friends with a number of the city's more shady characters, like the one whose party you were at that night." He paused. "You're not human."

"Neither are you, so I wouldn't be pointing any fingers," Mukuro said. Their eyes met, Hibari momentarily distracted by that unsettling stare. "Did you find out what I am, then?"

"Demon," Hibari said, rather annoyed by Mukuro's smugness.

Mukuro only laughed. "Half, actually. And you're lucky, you know. I did a little research of my own... apparently, demon blood is the forbidden fruit for your kind, delicious but poisonous. I suppose my human half diluted it enough, since you're still here." He looked Hibari over, seeming rather pleased to be considered a tasty treat for vampires.

That made sense, Hibari thought. There had been things he couldn't quite place - like why a demon would be living a human life, working a human job, when they were rarely ever found on this plane at all. Demons were rarer than vampires, and halfbreeds were even rarer than full demons. Hibari had never met another, had never even heard any rumors about them beyond the theory of their existence. "Did you know?" he asked.

"No," Mukuro answered with a shrug. "There aren't that many of your kind. I've never met a vampire before, and certainly never had anyone drink my blood." He played with the umbrella in his drink, spearing a cherry and eating it, and he sighed almost blissfully. "I've always wanted my very own stalker. So, why are you following me, then?"

Hibari's attempt to answer that question ended with them both in the alley behind the bar, Hibari's teeth in Mukuro's neck and Mukuro's long legs around his waist.

He didn't kill Mukuro that night. A demon would be powerful enough to destroy him, and he still had no idea how much power Mukuro had inherited from his demon parent. He told himself it was because Mukuro, even dizzy with blood loss and exhausted from rough hurried sex, might be able to fight him.

He refused to consider any other reason.

***

The third and fourth times weren't entirely chance, but they were random enough that both Hibari and Mukuro could pretend that nothing was planned. After the fifth time, Hibari stopped counting - and stopped bothering to pretend he wasn't seeking Mukuro out.

There was no better description for what he felt than addiction, and if pressed Mukuro might have admitted the same thing. The sex was good, the feeding better, and Mukuro never turned the vampire away.

Hibari was still convinced that he would one day kill Mukuro. Until then, he would take his please from the other man, waiting until he was sure he would succeed. He deliberately ignored the truth of his own actions.

Until the day that changed.

***

It wasn't anything dramatic, not really. It was just another meeting, another night like the nights that had become regular for them. In a dimly lit booth at a bar, in an alleyway or a cheap hotel room - it didn't matter where, as long as they both came away satisfied.

That night they were in a park, and this time, for once, had been a truly chance meeting. Their paths had crossed when Mukuro was on the way home (it was a warm night, he'd decided to take a shortcut through the park), and Hibari was out hunting (he couldn't survive off only occasional meetings with Mukuro, and though they were a poor substitute, no one missed the homeless). Neither could resist, though both should have known better.

Hibari was hungry, and it was too soon since the last time he'd drunk from Mukuro. Too caught up in lust and passion, Mukuro only encouraged him - and it wasn't until Mukuro swayed and slumped against him, breathing shallowly, that Hibari realized he'd drunk too much.

It was at that moment that things became crystal clear to Hibari. Mukuro was unconscious and completely vulnerable. No matter how powerful he was, his life was in Hibari's hands. Hibari could drain him dry, snap his neck, or even just leave him for dead - in this part of town, the deed would likely be done for him by morning. He could go through with what he'd intended all along.

Instead, Hibari took him home.

He knew where Mukuro's apartment was, of course, though they'd never gone there. The key was in Mukuro's pocket, and Hibari managed to avoid thinking about anything until he'd gotten Mukuro safely into bed.

Then he pulled a chair to the bedside, sat down, and watched Mukuro's unconscious body. If he listened, he could hear Mukuro's heart beating - the man would be fine. Hibari hadn't taken enough to kill him.

He waited for Mukuro to wake up.

At some point during the deepest part of that moonless night, he accepted that he would never kill this man.

***

Mukuro woke a few hours later.

When he stirred, Hibari immediately became alert. Mukuro blinked once, sluggishly, and looked at Hibari. He didn't need to as what had happened, and so he didn't bother. All he said was, "You brought me home."

"Yes," Hibari said, finding it difficult to meet Mukuro's eyes. He hadn't felt like this, strangely nervous and annoyed because of it, for decades. "I didn't think the hospital would have a ready supply of your blood type on hand."

Mukuro laughed, not as weakly as one would expect. He'd stayed out longer than a human might, but his unconsciousness had turned to sleep before long, and he seemed much stronger than someone who had lost that much blood should be. The benefits of infernal parentage, Hibari supposed.

Those eyes were watching him. Mukuro sat up with an obvious effort and smiled at Hibari, just a little. This time Hibari met his eyes and saw his awareness of just what exactly Hibari had done. The knowing smile irritated him, but at the same time - it was oddly reassuring.

"Come here," Mukuro said.

Hibari considered it and then joined Mukuro on the bed, pushing him back against the sheets gently enough to surprise even himself. Nothing about them had ever been gentle.

That was the first time they had sex without Hibari feeding.

Afterwards, Mukuro slept again, still weak. Hibari didn't leave, choosing instead to listen to Mukuro's breathing and wonder just when he'd lost this game so completely.

When Mukuro woke for the second time, there was only an hour before dawn. He turned to Hibari, lying next to him, and said, "You can stay."

And Hibari did.


End file.
